


Solstice

by athena_crikey



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: End of a shitty year, First Kiss, Hope, M/M, Promises, Solstice, Vague Romance, so long 2020~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 07:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28347801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athena_crikey/pseuds/athena_crikey
Summary: Solstice is about remembering everything that’s basic in the world, the green smell of pine and the squeaky crunch of snow, the flickering candlelight and the tickling of frost on your skin. As they climb further into the woods Gon slowly forgets one by one the things this year has taken from him. He still has these trees that cling to life even in the frozen winter, still has the echo of his heartbeat in his ears.Still has Hisoka trailing just a step behind him, his presence always in the back of Gon’s mind no matter how near or far he is.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Hisoka
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75





	Solstice

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas and here's hoping for a better 2021~

Whale Island is a small fishing community without wealth or pretention. The fishermen give thanks to the sea for its bounty but they don’t pray to it – the sea is fickle, and holds no rewards for faith. The townspeople worship small gods, their histories faded and their memories of ancient ceremonies patchy. 

Aunt Mito teaches him the ways of their family – no grand religion with churches and incense, no gold and wine and pledges of fealty. Theirs is a darker belief, one of bone and sinew, of snow and fire. 

It’s not until he leaves Whale Island to become a Hunter and find Ging that Gon realizes his ways are unknown in the wider world. That while he gives thanks to the land and the sky, the people of the larger continents pray to a savior and celebrate his birth above all others in the darkest month of the year. 

It’s been a year since he took the Hunter exam, a year in which he found Nen and friendship and family, and lost it all. A year of dreams that slowly shifted into nightmares. And when the nights grow long and the air turns crisp, Gon is once more alone in the world, searching for hope in the darkness. 

The cities and towns he passes through are full of light even as the snow falls, stores and homes decorated with green boughs and red ribbons, with silver bells and gold tinsel. It’s all for a long-dead savior he learns, for a man who offers redemption and revival to the faithful. Gon likes the smell of pine in the streets and the colourful trees that stand in city squares decorated with glass baubles and twinkling lights. Likes the celebration of kindness and hope. 

As for redemption? He doesn’t see how anyone can earn that for someone else. 

The snow falls thicker as the days pass, the sun low against the horizon and the shadows long. Gon travels from cities to towns to quiet villages, until finally the shortest day arrives. 

The solstice.

  
***

He’s in a small village in the cradle of a long valley, pine trees thick as moss along the steep rocky walls and snow crisp and deep. Gon sleeps in a small three-room hotel that’s hung with wreaths and ribbons, the inside full of cheerful little lights and beeswax candles that burn white.

He’s never been alone for the solstice before. There had always been Aunt Mito and Grandma, the three of them watching the sun set behind the mountain. It makes him feel somehow empty inside to be here without them, makes his heart ache. You should be with important people at important times, he knows. But here he is, sitting alone in a village tea shop watching the sky cloud over. There will be snow tonight. 

Gon drinks sweet hot chocolate, so thick and creamy and sugary that he bets Killua would love it. He wishes he could see the other boy, wishes he knew where he was. But Killua is with Alluka off the grid somewhere, finding a sanctuary of their own. Family comes first, always. That’s the way it should be. Gon tries not to let it hurt. 

The waitress is a pretty young girl with chestnut hair tied back in a ponytail, her uniform covered with a white apron. He hears her coming from behind him, hears her light steps on the shop’s wooden floor, and looks up. She’s holding a sugar cookie on a plate, smiling. “For you,” she says. “No one should look so sad so close to Histmas.”

The cookie is shaped like a musk elk, and decorated with blue icing. He smiles up at her. “Thanks!”

She nods and hurries away, back to the busy counter. 

Gon’s just bitten off the head, the sweet sugary cookie crumbling in his mouth, when he sees a familiar figure through the frost-covered window. Tall, narrow body, wide shoulders, impossibly bright hair. He chokes on his cookie, then shoves his chair back and runs out.

“Hisoka!”

The magician’s about ten meters past the shop now; he turns, hands in the pockets of his sky-blue coat. It’s long and edged with grey fur at the cuffs and collar; the pockets have black card suits embroidered on them. He catches sight of Gon, eyes taking the boy in with a slow sweep, then he smiles. It blossoms on his lips like a morning glory unfolding to meet the sun, his eyes shining. 

“Gon,” he purrs, voice throbbing. He walks back, hips swaying, the bottom of his coat shifting like a skirt. He’s wearing black heeled boots that patter over the cobbled road. “ _What_ a surprise.”

Gon looks up at him, still so much taller, his smile wide but somehow hinting at dark things. It makes Gon’s spine tingle. “Is it?” he asks. Hisoka blinks.

“Why shouldn’t it be?”

“Seems kinda unlikely you’d just happen to be here at the same time as me. There’s only about 500 people in this village, and it’s pretty out of the way.”

“At this time of the year, I prefer solitude,” replies Hisoka, pulling out a black-gloved hand to sweep elegant fingers over the curve of his cheek. The gloves disappear into his coat sleeves and are tight against his skin; designed for looks, not warmth. Just like the rest of his outfit. 

Gon’s coat is short and thick, padded with down; wrapped up in it he looks like a bulbous robin, pigeon-chested and rotund. But it’s warm, just like his seal-skin winter boots and his heavy mittens. “That’s kind of weird, isn’t it? Everyone I’ve met says this is the time of year for family. I don’t celebrate this Histmas thing, but I think it’s about family too. It’s sad to be alone when the nights are so long.”

Hisoka’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh? Are you looking for company, Gon?”

Gon’s thirteen, and he’s not as innocent as Killua thinks. He knows enough about Hisoka to know that the man has ulterior motives for everything he does, and that some of them involve doing things to Gon that he’s not ready for. But he also knows that Hisoka wants above all a fair chase and a clean kill – and that means he’ll accept Gon’s prevarications. 

Because even now, Gon is aware that someday he may not want to prevaricate. 

“I’d like to have a friend with me,” he says. “It’s the solstice tonight.”

“Mm, is it?” Hisoka looks up at the pale blue sky, faded as an old watercolour painting. “I don’t pay attention to such things.”

Hisoka, with his impractical clothes and his perfect make-up, has always struck Gon as a city dweller. Someone chic and clean-cut who likes expensive things. This confirms it; no one who lives in the country could miss the solstice. 

“It is. I’m going to celebrate it tonight. You can come if you want – but it’ll be cold.”

“Oh? Not drinking alone in your room then? That’s the traditional festivities for lonely men, Gon.”

Gon wrinkles his nose. “I’m not old enough to drink. And besides, I don’t think it’s good to spend your time dwelling over what’s lost.”

Hisoka’s smile softens, but his golden eyes are bright, their look boring deep into Gon. “No. I suppose if you did, you wouldn’t be here.”

It’s the first hint the magician has given that he’s aware of what Gon’s lost. But of course he would be – Hisoka would have instantly sensed that he had no Nen. He wonders what Hisoka thinks about it. Looking up into that pale, sharp-boned face, he can read nothing from it. Hisoka is like the moon, his presence sometimes larger or smaller in Gon’s life but always bright; and yet he’s always at a distance. 

“Will you come with me?” he asks. “I’d like it if you did.”

Hisoka’s eyes curve with pleasure, his hands on his narrow waist. “In that case, how could I refuse?”

Gon looks up at the clock in the village square. It’s nearly four o’clock. It will be dark soon. 

“I have some stuff to get from my room. Can I meet you here at four-thirty?”

“Certainly. It will give me time to have a quick drink,” he says, eyeing a tavern across the street. 

“Don’t have too much,” replies Gon doubtfully. 

“Aren’t you sweet? I would certainly never do anything to miss spending the solstice with you, Gon.” He wriggles his fingers in a childish wave and strikes out across the street towards the pub. 

Gon goes back into the shop to pay for his hot chocolate. Then he hurries back to his hotel.

  
***

He has a large canvas pack on his back when he meets Hisoka in the square at four-thirty, and a pair of lanterns in his hands. Flashlights would have been more practical, but at home they always used burning torches and somehow he can’t quite accept replacing that with battery-powered flashlights.

Hisoka is waiting beneath the clock, his breath fogging in the lamp light. His face is very pale in the cold night air, the tip of his nose pink. It makes him look somehow more approachable than usual, and Gon smiles. “Hisoka!”

The magician waves, his curious eyes flitting to Gon’s back. “Mm, you’re not playing Father Histmas, are you?” he wonders, voice amused. 

Gon’s brows draw together. “That old man in red? Nah. He has nothing to do with the solstice. These aren’t presents.”

“Regrettable,” breathes Hisoka. “But in that case what…?”

“You’ll see when we get there. Here.” He hands Hisoka the already-lit lantern, the fat candle inside still with hours left to burn. Hisoka takes it with his gloved hand, peering inside. 

“Don’t do that – you’ll lose your night sight. It can be dangerous in the woods at night. The snow is deep, too.” He looks down doubtfully at Hisoka’s heeled boots, made for strutting in the city, not navigating snow drifts. 

“Don’t worry,” purrs Hisoka. “Where you go, I will follow.” 

It sounds somehow like a promise.

  
***

They head to the top of the village and then out along the path that leads up into the mountains. There are some hermits who live in cabins in the woods and come into the village in the day, and for a while the path is partially beaten down and easier to tread.

They turn a corner and the lights of the shops and houses disappear, leaving just the two of them and the buttery glow of their lanterns. The sky is overcast, the moon and stars hidden. Their footsteps crunch in the snow, the only sound in the frigid, still night. 

Hisoka follows him up the path and then off into the woods proper, Gon stepping high, the snow up to his knees. He beats down a trail for Hisoka, the work more difficult than he was expecting. His legs are soon burning with the effort, his breathing hard as they toil up the hill. At home there had been a clearing close to their house; here he has to search until he finds one. 

Solstice is about remembering everything that’s basic in the world, the green smell of pine and the squeaky crunch of snow, the flickering candlelight and the tickling of frost on your skin. As they climb further into the woods Gon slowly forgets one by one the things this year has taken from him. He still has these trees that cling to life even in the frozen winter, still has the echo of his heartbeat in his ears. 

Still has Hisoka trailing just a step behind him, his presence always in the back of Gon’s mind no matter how near or far he is. 

He’s not alone. 

As he realizes it he comes to the clearing he had unconsciously been searching for. It’s a small one surrounded by naked deciduous trees and smaller pines, the centre heaped high with snow. 

Gon turns and catches sight of Hisoka, his eyes gleaming like gold in the lantern light, his cheeks pink from exertion. Gon smiles. “We’re here.”

He trudges in and starts stomping down a flat surface. Then he lays down his large pack and from it pulls dry kindling and small logs. He lays a fire carefully, and then around it some two feet away places a circle of red wax candles. When he’s done he walks over to the edge of the forest and snaps green boughs, then returns to weave them between the candles. Hisoka stands back, breathing quietly, watching. 

When he’s done he’s formed a perfect circle of candles around the logs. As he pulls out his long matches the first snowflakes drift down, white and pristine and perfect. Gon lights the match and puts it to the wood pile, waiting until the kindling catches. Then, slowly, carefully, he goes around the circle lighting the candles until each tiny flame is flickering upwards. 

“Now what?” asks Hisoka, standing behind him with his hands in the pockets of his stylish, thin coat. 

“Now we listen,” says Gon.

“To what?”

“To the fire. To the snow. To the woods. To everything we’ve forgotten to pay attention to this whole year. It’s what will carry us into next year. Listen to the life here in the heart of winter, so we can remember the spring.”

He steps back and closes his eyes. Listens. 

The fire is crackling, sparks shooting up in the air. The snow is sizzling quietly as it falls into the flames and melts away into nothingness. The wind is sighing in the trees, just light breaths of it, the snow-laden boughs creaking. 

Beside him Hisoka is drawing slow breaths that shudder slightly at their deepest point. He’s cold. 

Without looking, Gon pulls off his gloves and drops them into the snow. He reaches over and pulls Hisoka’s long, elegant hands out of his pockets and strips off the silly black synthetic gloves. Wraps Hisoka’s cold fingers in his, squeezing. 

Hisoka squeezes back. His breathing eases. 

They’re neither of them alone.

  
***

Eventually the candles start to burn out – they’re just cheap little lights, the wax dribbling away and staining the snow red. The fire has eaten away its logs, mostly just small branches and shaved wood to ensure it would light in the wilderness.

Gon blows out the candles and puts them back in his pack, then kicks snow over the fire; it hisses as it dies, smoke and embers rising towards the sky. When he turns he finds Hisoka watching their brief, doomed flight. 

“It was a beautiful fire,” he says, sparks reflected in his pale eyes. “And a beautiful death.”

“I’d rather think about life,” replies Gon, hitching the nearly empty bag onto his back and picking up his lantern from its indentation in the snow. “Are you ready to go back? You look really cold.”

Hisoka smiles. “It was worth it.”

  
***

Following the trail downhill, even in the lightly-falling snow, is easier than climbing was. Before long they’re back on the path, and then rounding the last bend and seeing the glow of the village lights pour out over the snow like a carpet of warmth.

“I’m glad you were here with me,” Gon says as they step onto the snow-covered cobblestones. “Thanks, Hisoka.”

“I believe I am the one who should be thanking you,” the magician replies. “Alas, I’m not Father Histmas either. I have no gift to give.”

“I don’t need presents.”

“I believe in want over need,” says Hisoka. He reaches out a sensuous black-gloved hand and catches the bottom of Gon’s chin. Tilts his head upwards. He leans down and presses a kiss to his lips, just a brush of chaste warmth. “There now. The next time we spend the solstice together, I’ll bring you something even better.”

Gon blushes, his face hot in the cold air. “Hisoka…”

The magician smiles and turns, heading down the main street with a swaying step. “Next time, Gon,” he calls softly over his shoulder, the snow falling around him. 

Gon stands watching until he disappears into a door further down the street. Then he opens his lantern, blows out the flame, and goes back to his lodging house.

END


End file.
